Bulwark
by combustible lemons
Summary: She seemed totally oblivious to his lechery. In their haphazard visits, they only tended to peck lips, nothing more, and it grated at Thrall's more pressing desires. He wanted more. Thrall/Jaina. Can be read as a oneshot.


Warcraft is not mine.

_Bulwark_

"In all honesty, Thrall, I'm amused at the spectacle you've created." Jaina's muffled laughter echoed in Thrall's ears as he strained against the heavy weight of a wooden bulwark that had effectively trapped him.

"That is absolutely wonderful, Jaina," he growled, "but I'd rather you assist me in removing this wretched weight off my chest, because I reckon I'll stop breathing soon."

Jaina, still smirking behind her hand, waved a hand at the shield, setting it aside with her magicks.

"Why couldn't you remove it yourself?" she chuckled, curious.

"Take into consideration that your wards would detect any magic I perform, and as much as I'd be _delighted _to meet your guard, I'd prefer it not being in an uncomfortable situation."

He let out a breath, heaving himself to his feet. "The bloody thing was damn-well heavy to boot. How your soldiers wield those things, I shall never know."

Jaina's smile widened. "They're not for fighting, Thrall. It's simply a decorative piece."

Thrall looked aghast. "Decorative piece?" he said, "What is the point of it?"

Jaina considered informing him of formal military wear, but knew that his guard in particular wore their battle armor for such occasions. Thrall, too far gone, mumbled defiantly.

"Decorative pieces... I give my warriors weapons that have the utmost reliance and convenience for them... not _decorative_ pieces of plate."

Jaina shook her head, laughing quietly. "Humans and orcs have different customs. That much is obvious."

Thrall rolled his eyes. "Quite." At this, he softened and moved closer to Jaina, watching as her eyes met his with a slight reluctance. Though they enjoyed each others presence tremendously, there were things that they needed to tend to. But Thrall, for a moment, dropped all his allegiances to the Horde to be with this woman.

His woman.

The possessive sound of his thoughts made him angered by his more primal instincts, but he couldn't... and _wouldn't _shake the feeling that he belonged to her, and her to him.

He wasn't dressed in his regular attire, as things had calmed down by a miniscule fraction over the last two months. But his mere dress signaled that things were getting better for the Horde and Theramore. Feuds were settling, people were progressing, economy was beginning a slow, steady climb.

And Thrall and Jaina? They were not. Nothing had been furthering their relationship except for short, terribly overdue rendezvous.

Thrall could not help but feel that now was his most opportune time to make Jaina understand his affection towards her. He did not know if she returned his soft love, but noted that she _could _if she allowed herself to do so. And he'd be damned if he did not try harder.

When the slow ardor began, Thrall could not place the exact moment in time that it had. He could only unwaveringly realize that she was becoming more to him. Becoming someone he would fight for; someone he would die for. And as time passed, he only felt himself falling harder, faster, until the ground seemed so close.

But what he could not comprehend was when the longing for... for _her _originated. It had slapped him in the face quite literally, and now that it was implanted in his mind, he found himself making frequent trips to his washroom to relieve himself.

And it didn't stop there.

She seemed totally oblivious to his lechery. In their haphazard visits, they only tended to peck lips, nothing more, and it grated at Thrall's more pressing desires. He wanted more. And while it made him feel extremely self-conscience and insecure in his green skin, it wouldn't pass.

He felt like she did not return his undying fervor, nor his increasing lust. Was she inattentive? No. The mere thought had left Thrall in perturbed hysterics. Jaina was aware of everything and anything that happened around her, so how could she not see his need? His want for her?

Was he simply not enough?

He cursed all women (though rebuked himself afterward) with their dastardly ways. How shielded they could be with their thoughtful minds. Jaina, however strong, mentally, physically, and most definitely magically, was no exception to this rule of thumb.

"Quite the topic you must be thinking of," Jaina's voice interrupted his vivacious thoughts. "Care to part with it?"

Thrall set his jaw. "I'm afraid I cannot portion it to you currently."

A furrow appeared in her brow as she studied him, masking her confusion with a delicate slant of her mouth.

"I see." Her voice was a tad colder than he had expected it to be, and whilst he was sheepish, he was staying firm in his secrecy. If she ever caught wind of what he was thinking...

"You may not value me as I do for you, but I suppose I shouldn't press matters that do not concern me." She said it all in one breath, looking decidedly irritated with him. Thrall, unable to see her upset, put his arms around her.

"I do apologize," he said quietly.

"Forgive me for giving you the cold shoulder," she piped up, "it was utterly childish of me to accuse you in matters that have no interest with me. Hopefully, you will see that I –"

He tilted her chin up, bringing his face forward to kiss her jaw and the edges of her lips. His arms slid down her frame, hands daring across new territory. She did not do anything to stop him, so he continued his inquisitive search.

His lips landed upon hers, and she opened her mouth to him, her tongue tracing one of his tusks in the most unreal manner. His hands groped her further, fingers pushing up soft cloth fabric, feeling the warm, taut skin of her hips. He closed his eyes, his tongue entangling with hers. She sighed against his mouth, hands resting on his chest, gently tugging at the top of his leather tunic.

They parted for breath, panting slightly. He opened his eyes to her, their gazes meeting heatedly. With her pressed against him so passionately, he knew that he would not be departing from Theramore Isle anytime soon.

Thrall edged forward, making her walk backwards as they neared her cot. His blood was racing as they collapsed onto it, Thrall twisting their bodies deftly so that he landed first, her soft body atop his. And in that moment, all his blood and thoughts headed straight to his groin.

Unable to conceal his victorious smile, he kissed her again, not minding in the slightest when she toyed with his tusks once more.

"Quite a large step," Jaina breathed, her voice sliding like a whisper.

"Indeed," was Thrall's equivalently breathy response, "and I doubt that I will be leaving here by morn."

* * *

:/

Can be read as complete, I reckon. If there is any desire for it to be continued, I will gladly do so. Though I am not exactly proud of this piece, (due to Thrall's unkempt behavior and Jaina's abhorrent accusing and then immediate apologies) the plot stuck on me all day and managed to grow in an incorrigible way.

I hope that, with time, I can better myself to write their chemistry with as much accuracy I can muster.


End file.
